


Rhapsody in Pixels

by Snowsheba



Category: Strange Magic (2015)
Genre: F/M, Slow Burn, however Roland does get punched in the face, or maybe not, so you have that to look forward to, the rpg fic you've all been waiting for
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-31
Updated: 2015-12-02
Packaged: 2018-04-28 20:56:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5105474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snowsheba/pseuds/Snowsheba
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marianne is an avid player of Strange Magic, an MMORPG that she turned to when her fiancé Roland cheated on her the day of their wedding. Since then, streaming online on Twitch, she, Dawn and Sunny have formed a guild called Fairy Kingdom and rapidly climbed to the top ranks – and have been in a constant rivalry with an opposing guild called the Dark Forest.</p><p>Then Fairy Kingdom gets their own panel at Twitch Con, and Marianne meets an awkward, snarky, grumpy Scottish fellow named Bog.</p><p>(Currently on hiatus!)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. whisper

**Author's Note:**

> I, uh.
> 
> I don't really know what to say about this, except that it happened. And. That I'm still writing it. Even though I was hoping for a oneshot.
> 
> Um.

Marianne groans into her microphone and says irritably, “Well, viewers, looks like we’re about to get killed because _someone_ forgot their favorite armor got nerfed a few days back.”

“Shut up,” Dawn whines into her own mic. “I’m respawning in ten seconds!”

“And when you do, you’ll flank them from the left if you know what’s good for you.”

“Jeez, sis, you don’t have to be so mean – oh, they left a huge opening. That’s weird!” Moments later, Dawn’s tank of a faerie charges in, wielding nothing but brass knuckles, blue wings fluttering wildly on the screen. It slams into one of the Dark Forest players – [thang], Marianne sees, and feels a small wave of satisfaction – and drops the health bar to nothing, causing the goblin character to fall over, motionless. “Got him!”

“Got Stuff!” Sunny calls out, and Marianne smirks as she presses down on her keyboard and urges her own faerie warrior to a sprint. Sunny and Dawn flank her as they rush down the lane, intent on Dark Forest’s main base before [thang] and [stuff] respawn.

“And of course BK doesn’t make a timely appearance,” Marianne comments, flicking her eyes momentarily over to the Twitch chat. Their three thousand-some viewers are laughing to themselves, certain their favorite guild has the game in the bag. “Let’s go show him faeries aren’t to be messed with.”

“That’s the lamest battle cry I’ve ever heard,” Sunny says into his mic, nonplussed.

“Sing a song, then,” Marianne says dryly.

“I just might, one that you two can harmonize with.” Chat explodes, and she hears his chuckle through her headphones. “See? The public gets what it wants.”

“If you sing _Don’t Worry_ again I’m going to have to hurt you,” Marianne warns, then lets out a huff when [ thang] reappears and engages her character. She dances out of range and lets Dawn take her place as she readies her sword.

“If you hurt him, I’ll hurt _you_ ,” Dawn fires back, and one mighty swing from her faerie is enough to smite [thang] into the dirt. “Wow, all that grinding paid off! Or maybe it's the new weapon I'm using.”

“Good thing you’re not like that in real life, with your tiny little hands and all.”

“These tiny little hands can still break your nose.”

Marianne laughs. “Don’t I know it.”

“It was an accident!” Dawn says hotly, but Marianne call tell her sister is more embarrassed than angry. She hums one long, prolonged note, and Dawn sputters and mutters about _never letting things go, it_ was _an accident,_ _she was five for Pete's sake._ Fortunately, Sunny has the tact to interrupt. 

“BK’s still not here.”

“Doesn't look like Thang is, either,” Marianne notes, easily dropping the subject, and Dawn huffs.

“Stuff is. And gone again,” Sunny says, his elf character retracting its bow and arrows as [stuff]’s goblin falls to his and Dawn’s combined attacks. “Let’s keep going, we’re almost there.”

Almost as soon as he says this, the main base appears – a small, squarish compound of stone on her screen – and the in-game chatbox flashes. She furrows her brow as she takes a closer look.

[BK] _whispered_ : Took you long enough.

“Uh, guys? BK just whispered me.”

“You know, that strikes me as a bad sign,” Sunny says, and then he yelps when a flare of orange magic slams into his character. “Drat! That got half of my health!”

“It came from the right!” Dawn says, charging her character in that direction. Marianne stays a careful distance behind as she follows, skirting the main base for the time being. Sunny follows her until he is partially hidden underneath a stray tree before he turns his attention to the structure and nocks an arrow in his bowstring. “There he is!”

[BK]’s character is a goblin mage, which would be odd in and of itself if he hadn’t also modded the avatar to look like... a bug or something. Marianne still hasn’t figured out what exactly it’s supposed to be, but whatever it is, it’s ugly as hell.

[butterfly] _whispered_ : And you’re a scaly-backed cockroach.

“Whatever you just typed in the chatbox got chat going,” Sunny says, and Marianne’s eyes dart to the livestream’s chat. Sure enough, their fans are in a tizzy and are suggesting more insults for her to use – most far too vulgar for her to even say out loud. “Also, Stuff and Thang are back, but they seem to be ignoring me for now.”

“What, even though you’re attacking the base directly? – Stupid BK, sit still for one second!” Dawn hisses in frustration when instead the Dark Forest guildmaster lands a solid spell on her.

“I’ll circle around and get Stuff and Thang. DW, keep attacking the base; Sunrise, you keep BK distracted,” Marianne orders. After a moment’s though, she asks, “What are their defenses at?”

“They’ve got it to fifteen for the moment, should only take me twenty seconds or so,” Sunny says, and the next arrow he fires explodes into ice upon making contact with the building. Dawn just grunts, and Marianne spins her character around and proceeds in the opposite direction.

[BK] _whispered_ : Doesn’t mean much coming from a fairy.

She spies [stuff] and [thang] milling around the front of the main base, in the process of planting several traps around the structure’s perimeter, and darts in to take [thang] out with a sword to the back. She retreats into the safety of the forest lining the lane as [stuff] pursues, and the goblin rogue begins combing the surrounding area to look for Marianne’s character as she types a response.

[butterfly] _whispered_ : Faerie, cockroach. And in the old stories, faeries stole children and ate them.

“Chat’s all riled up again,” Sunny noted, never ending his stream of arrows into the main base. The building’s red health bar drops a tiny increment with each hit; he’s gotten the defenses down, although he has to back off when [stuff] gives up on her search for Marianne and goes to attack him instead. “What are you saying to him?”

“Yeah, stop whispering!” Dawn says, and then curses very neatly and eloquently, just a single word, before announcing, “BK got me and he’s coming your way, DW. I respawn in fifteen seconds back at base.”

Marianne quickly lashes out at [stuff] before hiding again, crossing her fingers that her warrior’s stealth is high enough to keep her hidden from the goblin rogue for just a little longer. “DW, get Stuff and circle around. I’ll try to keep BK distracted.”

“With chat?” Sunny says, and Dawn echoes him with a catcall.

“Shut up, sis.”

“Make me.”

“I’ll tell dad about the new librarian boyfriend, don’t think I won’t.”

“What happened to secrets between sisters?” Dawn complains, as Sunny chokes on a laugh as his character slips into position.

[BK] _whispered_ : Oh, please. As if you could even find children with the way you bumble around, let alone eat them.  
[butterfly] _whispered_ : It doesn’t surprise me that you spend so much time throwing insults that you can’t tell when you’re being ambushed.

Boom – a nice, clean hit from Sunny as [BK] approaches to kill him, along a quick dance of her fingers, and [BK]’s mage tumbles lifelessly to the ground. Marianne and Sunny resume their destruction of the main base and the game ends a few seconds later, with a victory in their favor.

[BK] _whispered_ : Touché.

Marianne leans back from her computer with a smirk on her face as chat erupts again. Dawn cheers loudly into her mic while Sunny breaks into Queen’s _We Are The Champions_ , and it’s. It’s good. It’s so much better than when Roland was in her life, as Dawn joins in, her higher voice sweeping along with Sunny’s.

She's basking in the warm glow of success, the game set to reset in five seconds, when she gets one last message:

[BK] _whispered_ : You won’t win next time, tough girl.

There’s two seconds left when she answers:

[butterfly] _whispered_ : Keep dreaming, bug.

“What is chat going on about now?” Sunny wonders, and Marianne can only laugh, her cheeks just a little warm.

* * *

“Well,” Steph says over Skype, “That match was just flat-out awful.”

“Did you see Sunrise’s new weapons? I had over half health and she just KO’d me!” Thane’s voice is enough to betray the fact he’s likely waving his arms around. “How much grinding do you think they _do_ over there?”

“Too much,” Bog grumbles. This makes another two losses in as many weeks.

“I think – ” Steph’s voice abruptly hushes, and she continued in a whisper, “You tell him, Thane.”

“What? Why?”

“He likes you better.”

Bog heaves a sigh and shakes his head, a rueful smile on his face, as Thane says, “We’re gonna have to up our game, boss.”

“So it seems.” Both of his teammates give noises of assent, with varying levels of enthusiasm. “When is a good time for training?”

“Friday evenings, same as always,” Thane answers without missing a beat.

“I’ll have to do it on my own, boss,” Steph says instead, apologetic. “Just tell me how many experience points you get and I’ll match it the next morning before the duel.”

“Oh, is that still on?” Thane asks. “We only had one today because Steph thought she had to reschedule, but now that she doesn’t...”

“I let her know that that had been taken care of yesterday, but she still wanted to go through with it today,” Bog says, referring to the Fairy Kingdom’s illustrious leader [butterfly]. “I’m fairly certain it is still going to occur.”

“Can’t hurt to check, right?” Thane says, and then backpedals and says, “Just for my peace of mind.”

Steph lets out a short bark of a laugh as Bog grumbles to himself, opening up Strange Magic’s messaging system and typing in the infernal _Fairy Kingdom_ into the search box. Three names pop up, and he selects  [butterfly] before writing out the missive.

[BK]: I presume we are still on for a duel on Saturday evening? I believe a rematch is in order.

He hovers his hand above his mouse for a bit before pressing send. Messaging [butterfly] is always a mixed bag; he never knows when he might get a coherent, detached answer, or one that teems with so much verbal abuse that it cannot be considered an actual message.

He gets lucky this time; her response is simple and clean.

[butterfly]: Yes. I don’t see how a rematch is necessary, but a deal is a deal.

“It’s still on.”

“Excellent,” Thane says.

“As if it ever was in doubt,” Steph says with another laugh.

This was true, as these matchups had been going on for months now – back when [butterfly] had been a nobody and had challenged Bog, one of the top rankers, to an individual duel. To his eternal disgust and sheer humiliation, she had won, and from then on, [butterfly] had had something of a permanent presence in his gaming.

He won’t dare admit it, but he’s gone to her livestreams on occasion to listen to her and her teammates. They don’t use real names – of course – and all he knows is that [sunrise] is her sister and DW – [dontworry] – is their longtime friend, and that when either wants her attention they say _fly_ or _butterfly_. Occasionally the three of them break into song in the middle of a fight, and it is by far the most ridiculous setup Bog has ever witnessed.

He also finds it distasteful to listen to the competition while they fight, considering the advantage it gives him. Fairy Kingdom is not quiet about their strategy with each other.

[butterfly]: We won’t be there next week, though. We’re doing a panel at Twitch Con.

His eyebrows knit together and he frowns. He hadn’t realized she’d amassed a large enough following to do such a thing, and surprise deepens his brogue as he says, “They’re going to Twitch Con.”

“Really?” Thane says, just a touch incredulous.

“They have a panel,” Bog says.

Thane lets out a surprised, wordless exclamation. Steph sounds similarly startled as she remarks, “Maybe we’ll actually meet them there, huh?”

“Maybe,” Bog echoes, unsure how he feels about that. He’s not sure he wants a face to match the name [butterfly] with.

[BK]: Dark Forest will be there as well.  
[butterfly]: Oh, really? I wonder if you look as much like a cockroach as your character.

 _Water under the bridge_ , Bog thinks, but he looks down at himself anyway and hates himself a bit for doing so. Spindly legs, long arms, gangly and scrawny as a teenager – well, he’s not pretty, but he isn’t a bug.

[BK]: Hilarious, princess.  
[butterfly]: Faerie princess, thank you very much.  
[BK]: As you say, fairy princess.  
[butterfly]: Faerie.  
[BK]: Noted and ignored.  
[butterfly]: Pish. Jerkface.  
[butterfly]: Hey, but since you're going, we should do something fun. Like... a duel. When we get there, I mean.  
[BK]: Are you suggesting a live match during our panel?  
[butterfly]: Or during ours.  
[butterfly]: Wait, you have a panel?  
[BK]: I’ve been playing the game longer than you. Perhaps you have forgotten?  
[butterfly]: Are you sure? I seem to recall you sucking pretty badly at it.  
[BK]: And I seem to recall defeating you for three weeks in a row last month.  
[butterfly]: I have no idea what you’re talking about.  
[butterfly]: Yet another reason to attend, I guess - I can see the person I’ve been beating the snot out of all this time.  
[BK]: Charming.  
[butterfly]: What can I say? It’s effortless.

He can hear her voice in the words she types, now, without really thinking about it. It’s... not a particularly special voice, just one he associates with [butterfly], one that causes his fingers to twitch and his lips to curl and adrenaline to threaten his bloodstream.

(She does sing rather well, though.)

[BK]: All right. It doesn't seem like a terrible idea, at any rate.  
[BK]: Are you sure you want to do this?  
[butterfly]: No, I want to do your mom.  
[BK]: ... On second thought, are you sure you’re not twelve?  
[butterfly]: Wish I was, these days. Life sure was simpler.  
[butterfly]: We can figure out logistics once the schedule is finalized, but I’ll let [sunrise] and [dontworry] know.  
[BK]: I appreciate your promptness. [stuff] and [thang] will be delighted to have an opportunity to humiliate you live.  
[butterfly]: Them’s fighting words, bucko. You're going _down_.  
[butterfly]: Duel you this Saturday.  
[BK]: Indeed.

Not a ‘see you’ or a ‘farewell’ – just a simple passing confirmation of their duel, and then she’s gone, fluttering away as quickly as her namesake.

“Boss?” Steph asks, after the silence stretches on.

“We are apparently dueling them at Twitch Con,” Bog says. He isn’t sure whether to be irritated or not. In the end, he settles for sullen.

“Live?”

“Yes.”

“Wow,” Thane says. “During our panel?”

“Or theirs.”

“ _Damn_.”

“All the more reason to grind,” Steph says, a smile in her gravelly voice. “I’ve gotta jet, boss, working early tomorrow. See you later, Thane.”

“See ya.” Steph closes out of Skype, and Bog clicks to bring up the application’s window on his computer as Thane says, “I’m going to go as well. Anything else, King?”

“No. Good night, Thane.”

“You too, boss. Talk this Friday.”

The silence that fills Bog’s small room is almost oppressive as he shuts down his computer for the day. He’s bone-tired and weary, but can hardly summon the will to get out of his chair; the bed seems so far away, forlorn and empty with its plaid covers tossed haphazardly to the side.

 _Friday_ , he thinks, and he grunts as he heaves himself to his feet.

* * *

From: **Dawn**  
_where are you?? you were supposed to be here almost five minutes ago!_  
(21:32)

To: **Dawn**  
_Sorry, I got held up by an indiv. duel. Be there in two seconds._  
(21:33)

From: **Dawn**  
_if you keep me and Sunny waiting any longer, BK might start the game without you_  
(21:33)

Marianne sighs as she clicks her way out of the match and into the lobby. It’s dark outside and her window is open, bringing in a slight breeze that warned of the coming winter; she suddenly wonders if it’s a bad idea and hopes her dad doesn’t come up to her room and open her door. She has her desk lamp on and she’s stuffed the bottom of her door with clothes so no sound or light escapes, which is usually enough to deter him – but he’d kill her if he caught her like this. She has work tomorrow morning.

When she finally enters the newest duel with her sister and her not-boyfriend, the game dings at her as the chatbox fills with text.

[sunrise]: oh thank goodness! the game starts automatically in two minutes  
[dontworry]: i kept telling her you’d show up. it’s not like you’d miss a duel against dark forest.  
[butterfly]: Listen to Sunny next time. He is very wise.  
[dontworry]: and now i have to wonder when you’ll take that back.  
[sunrise]: lol!  
[dontworry]: and Dawn, you should tell her what happened.  
[sunrise]: oh right  
[butterfly]: Uh-oh.  
[sunrise]: when i was walking to dws today roland stopped me in the street

The air explodes out of her lungs like she's been punched in the gut, and for a few seconds, she can only stare at the screen, horror creeping slow and cold on her spine.

[butterfly]: ... Roland?  
[butterfly]: Where?  
[sunrise]: if i tell you you’ll go beat him up!  
[butterfly]: Since when did you care about _Roland_?  
[sunrise]: i dont, but dad does and if he catches wind that you gave him a black eye hed get so pissed  
[sunrise]: he only asked where you were and i told him you didnt want to see him and ignored him  
[sunrise]: sunny chased him off when he kept following me around  
[butterfly]: He followed you around? He’d _better_ hope he doesn’t run into me.  
[dontworry]: if it’s any help, he looks exactly the same, so you can give him an even more impressive black eye in the same place you did last time.  
[sunrise]: sunny!!  
[butterfly]: I knew I liked you for a reason.

The game starts before he can add a response, and Marianne realizes with a start that she had forgotten to set up Twitch. Which was good, because they had used their real names in chat without thinking about it, but their viewers would not be happy if they were left hanging on their weekly stream.

[butterfly]: I’ve got to set up Twitch, keep them off me.  
[sunrise]: well fortify the base but you need to be quick! go go go  
[dontworry]: i’ll add you in on the skype call. leave it to roland to mess everything up, huh?

Marianne snorts at that as she rapidly clicks into her web browser and enters Twitch’s url into the searchbar. A couple of taps and drags here and there and they're live, and Marianne hooks her headphones into her audio jack and crams them over her ears. The duel is already underway by the time she clicks back in.

“Sorry we’re late,” she says into her mic, moving her character forward. Sunny and Dawn are further ahead, already finished with basic preparations – main base defenses are at fifteen, currently – and clearing a path through the approaching enemy mob, leaving her to charge in to join them. “Some technical malfunctions, but we should be good to go. And look, no delay for once, you get to see the action right away!”

“It’s the little things,” Sunny says, and then “eep!” when [thang] pops out of nowhere and slashes hard and fast at him. Marianne immediately pounces on the offender as Sunny retreats, his archer shooting endlessly, and Dawn whoops as her character sends [stuff] sprawling, temporarily stunned. The conversation rapidly peters out thereafter, and beyond the cursory command or warning, the three focusing all of their attention on the game itself. In this respect, [stuff] and [thang] fall in short order, but not before nailing Sunny at least once.

“Someone’s attacking the main base!” Dawn says suddenly, turning on her heel to race back the way she came, and indeed, in the upper left-hand corner the update reads as such. Sunny inevitably follows her, and so does the majority of the mob; Marianne, sensing an opportunity, darts into the forests on the left side of the lane and works her way forward, slowly but surely. It’s only once [thang] and [stuff] have passed her that she returns into the lane proper and sprints down to the other side. “Sis, we need you! Come back!”

“Just a second,” Marianne grinds out, readying one of her more powerful moves as she closes in on Dark Forest’s main base.

“BK went down a while ago!” Sunny shouts, grasping at her intentions. Chat is abuzz. “Whatever you’re doing, make it quick!”

“Right,” Marianne says, and she unleashes her attack at Dark Forest’s main base, unfortunately at the exact same time [BK] respawns. It ends up killing him again instantly, but leaves the main base unscathed and requires her to wait for her power to charge. She goes with ordinary attacks instead as she says, “Took him down again. How long until he respawns?”

“Second time you’re killed, it’s fifteen seconds,” Dawn says. “I think.”

“Plenty of time,” Marianne says with a grim smile. Sure enough, her power has cooled down and she punches the keyboard key she’d shortcut to it. “Give me ten seconds.”

“Main base is still not secure,” Sunny says; “Get it done.”

The move she had chosen obliterates the main base’s defenses and over half of the its health bar, and she hacks at it with her sword with as many special moves as she can fit in. Mobs are starting to appear behind her, and [BK] is going to respawn any second as she anxiously waits for her power to cool down. Five seconds. Three seconds. Two. One...

[BK] respawns, she clicks her shortcut key, her screen goes black – and she hisses angrily as her death registers in the top corner of the screen. Ten seconds until she respawns, and Sunny yelps, “BK’s making his way down!”

“Dammit!” Marianne slams her desk with her fist. “I almost had it!”

By the time she respawns, it’s just a matter of time: [stuff] is out, but [thang] and [BK] are going strong as both Fairy Kingdom and Dark Forest’s mobs have at each other. Dawn was downed a while ago, so it’s just her and Sunny, two glass cannons attempting to hold off one tank and one mage with enough defensive spells to also be something of a tank. She growls unintelligibly into her mic. Even when Dawn respawns and rejoins the fight, it’s already over, and soon DEFEAT reads large and angry across her screen.

“Almost had them,” Marianne says, frustrated with the game, but mostly frustrated with herself. Her nerves are fried and she has to resist the urge to scream and slam her fist into her desk. “I should’ve gone back instead of taking the risk. Sorry, guys.”

“Yeah, well,” Dawn says, cautious but cheery, “You would’ve, usually. It’s just. You know.” Pause. “ _That_ guy.”

“Ugh, fuck Roland,” Marianne answers.

“Hey, what happened to no names on stream?”

“I think Roland deserves to be the exception to the rule, DW,” Marianne grumbles. The chatbox is exploding with demands for an explanation, and she sighs and says, “Long story short, Roland was my fiancée, but he cheated on me on our wedding day so I broke it off. He’s a grade-A asshole.”

“What if he’s listening in, sis?” Dawn implores. “Or what if a friend of his is? We really shouldn’t give out information like this – ”

“He _stalked_ you, Dawn! Like hell am I just going to let the world keep thinking he’s the perfect man.” But Dawn’s right, too; it’s one thing to air out grievances, but it’s quite another thing to do it to a live audience Marianne doesn’t know, so she sighs. “Sorry. Let’s pretend this conversation never happened, shall we?”

“Sounds good to me,” Sunny says. Marianne can practically see him nodding. “We calling it a day?”

“I’m going to go train some more,” Dawn says. “Maybe to get just one more point, or some new armor. It’s already kind of late.”

“Ten-thirty is not late,” Marianne says, but then adds, “I’m gonna go, I have work tomorrow. You staying, Sunny?”

“Yeah, I think so. Thang charged me when I was shooting at him and he pretty much melee’d me to death. I’m going to see if I can get some better armor.”

 _He’s so transparent_ , Marianne thinks as she rolls her eyes; it was beyond obvious he just wanted to hang out with her sister. “All right, I’ll leave Twitch so one of you can switch to your screens. See you in a couple of days, viewers, and remember, Twitch Con is next week! You should definitely come say hi.”

She logs off of Strange Magic and it hits her how sad of a situation this is – she’s locked herself in her dark room with one lamp and a computer screen to keep her company, she hasn’t had a proper eight hours of sleep since five months ago, and tomorrow she’s going to have to wake up early to open the gaming store, and then she has afternoon classes, and ugh. Her fault for being a full-time student and small-time livestreamer at the same time, she supposes, as she shuts her computer off and takes her socks off of her feet before clambering into her bed.

Sleep doesn’t come easy, but when it does, she dreams of cockroaches and kings.


	2. explosive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [butterfly]: Stop using your shields and face me like a true warrior, cockroach!   
>  [thang]: im pretty sure that would be unfair   
>  [butterfly]: And stop getting your minion to respond for you!   
>  [thang]: sorry   
>  [butterfly]: It’s not your fault, minion. I blame your boss.   
>  [sunrise]: yeah!! you slave driver D:   
>  [butterfly]: What do you say to that, bug?   
>  [thang]: he says that he isnt losing   
>  [butterfly]: Lies and slander!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In my quest to make a fic about nerds playing games, I have accidentally created a game that is a direct rip-off of League of Legends and worked through more of its mechanics than I meant to. This was supposed to be about Bog and Marianne, not a game that doesn't even exist.
> 
> My apologies for the delay! It will probably happen again because I am tired and have school. Also formatting this thing takes a bit because of all that courier new at different sizes and colors and such. Not to mention catching all the little errors I find - there might still be some scattered about, so please let me know if you find them!
> 
> Also, before you begin: this (‽) is an interrobang - a combination between a question mark and an exclamation point. You're welcome.

Twitch Con is about as exciting as his day job, which is to say, no one recognizes him until he actually has his own panel, Steph and Thane sitting beside him as he stands at the podium. Then the audience is rapidly filled and titters at him, probably because they aren’t expecting a Scotsman who is about as tall and he was scrawny and has to stoop awkwardly to avoid hitting his head on doorways.

(He looks absolutely _nothing_ like a gamer. More like a man who owns kilts and is likely to break out a bagpipe at the earliest opportunity. (And though he does own a kilt, he has never gotten the hang of the bagpipe.))

“Hello,” he says, and the tittering intensifies. He thinks he hears someone whisper _his voice is so sexy_ and wills himself not to roll his eyes. “I’m Bog, otherwise known as BK. I’m the guildmaster of Dark Forest on Strange Magic, that is, the annoying mage who uses way too many defensive spells.” A bunch of people from the audience shout ‘hello’ at him, which he returns with a wave before he gestures to his teammates.

Thane stands up first. “I’m Thane. My gamertag’s Thang.” More hellos. “I’m the tank of the team. Goblin warrior.”

“And I’m Steph, or Stuff,” Steph says, standing up as Thane plops back down. “I’m more well-rounded, but I guess I’d call my character a rogue when it comes down to it.”

Bog then goes over the basics of Strange Magic, touching upon the single lane one must traverse, the forests that line both sides of the lane, and the mobs that spawn every ten seconds or so. It’s all unnecessary – Bog is well-aware that most people in the room do know how Strange Magic works, considering they’re at Dark Forest’s panel – but better safe than sorry, as Thane goes on to describe the combat system, which is in reality a bunch of moves that most serious players shortcut to certain letters on the keyboard, while Steph explains how matchups work between individual duels and guild duels.

“Before we open the floor to questions, we’re going to play a round against the esteemed Fairy Kingdom,” Bog says, and his lips lift into a small smile when he hears a mixed reaction of laughter and groans. He wakes his computer up from sleep and makes sure Steph and Thane are safely in his party. “It seems a lot of you have heard of them, eh? Probably from the time when they dethroned us as number one.”

“We still love you best, BK!” someone yells from the audience. A chorus of agreements follows, and Bog shakes his head, smiling, but he otherwise doesn’t react as he clicks into the lobby. Steph and Thane do the same beside him, and he sees without surprise that Fairy Kingdom is already waiting and has given their go-ahead to begin.

“Just as a precaution,” he says as he starts the countdown timer, “I may actually lose in front of you, so I apologize for possibly disappointing you all.”

“The Faeries know we’re in a panel right now,” Steph points out, voice raspy. “Maybe they’ll go easy on us.”

Thane snorts, which sums up the likelihood of that fairly well, but Bog says anyway, “I find that difficult to believe.”

There’s murmuring at that, alone with continued shouted greetings, and then the audience begins to quiet down as the game is projected up in front of them for easy viewing – from Steph’s laptop, Bog would wager, since her machine is the most powerful one. Bog leans over his computer and taps his fingers impatiently over the keys, and once the game starts he spends the barest amount of time preparing defenses and getting the first few mobs spawned before gathering Thane and Steph and beginning down the lane.

He makes it about one-quarter before running into the first stages of resistance – [sunrise] and [dontworry]. “They got here fast,” he comments aloud, remembering a touch later that he is still mic’d and that the whole audience is listening in. Well, he supposes that that’s the point of livestreaming, though he’s never actually done it before.

“And Butterfly’s not here,” Thane notes.

“I’ll double back, boss,” Steph says, reading his mind, and her character retreats as Thane engages [sunrise]’s faerie tank, leaving him to deal with [dontworry]’s archer. Bog’s not sure what to expect, now that [butterfly] is clearly not on the front lines; typically, she likes to charge in and wreak havoc immediately, not partake in some kind of backhanded hide-attack-hide like [dontworry] prefers.

His caution appears to be misplaced, however, as [dontworry]’s arrow flies out, hits him, and explodes, also setting him on fire and causing a drop in health every second. He renews his protective barrier and puts the fire out before concentrating on [dontworry] entirely, leaving the mobs to duke it out between each other. Just when he thinks he’s going to nail an attack on the archer, however, [sunrise] veers out from her fight with Thane and takes the blast of magic, easily absorbing it before charging at Thane again.

“They’ve been working on some new strategies,” Thane notes as his character slams hard into [sunrise]’s.

“No sign of Butterfly back at the base,” Steph reports. “I’ll stay here for the moment, get some defenses up. Mobs spawn every twelve seconds.”

“Get that down to ten or nine,” Bog says. “Thane, get DW. I’ll distract Sunrise in the meantime.”

“You got it, boss.”

“Word.”

“Don’t ever say that again,” Steph says with a snort, and the audience chuckles with her as Bog and Thane fluidly switch spots. [sunrise] tries to follow the tank, but Bog nabs her with a ball of ice that momentarily freezes her in place; meanwhile, [dontworry] is obliterated in an instant, downed under a heavy blow from Thane’s ax. “Base is secure, boss. You want me to move?”

“Mobs down to ten?”

“Nine seconds, defenses at thirty. Not the best, but it should do.”

“Nice,” Thane says appreciatively anyway, as he and Bog move their characters forward, driving [sunrise] back.

“Go slow,” Bog orders, dodging his character around [sunrise]’s mighty fist. Thane intercepts it and counterattacks with a swing of his ax. “Butterfly could be anywhere.”

“Gotcha.”

“Don’t die,” Thane adds helpfully.

“Don’t jinx it,” Steph shoots back without missing a beat.

* * *

“One marker more. Just ten little steps,” Marianne urges, watching [BK] and [thang] progress onward on Dawn’s screen, projected to a corner of her own computer via Skype. “Keep going, keep going...”

“If this works, I vote we get pizza tonight,” Sunny whispers to Dawn.

* * *

Thane yelps when the ground falls out from underneath him.

“What happened?” Bog frowns as his teammate’s character does not reappear.

“Instant KO,” Thane grumps back, and then he sighs. “Ten seconds to respawn. Traps beyond halfway, er, fifty marker, be careful, Steph.”

Steph grunts assent as Bog cautiously moves forward. His mage has several advantages when it comes to pitfalls – with the Float spell, he’s not touching the ground and thus cannot be caught in most, if not all, traps – but going it alone, especially with [sunrise] still at one-fourth health, is asking for trouble. Still, he continues, flitting around the faerie tank and battering her almost constantly with spells, and he’s not even at the seventy marker when she finally falls. Already, [dontworry] has taken her place.

“Steph, are you close?”

“Fifty marker and closing, boss. Traps showing up further down past sixty. Thane, stay in the center and don’t go to the sides.”

“Right-o. Respawned and on my way. At thirty marker.”

“DW’s going to flank me once I get too close,” Bog says, and he stops advancing his character. “Steph, I’m going to fall back and get him from a distance while you close in. He’s walking all over around marker eighty, so it should be safe ground there.”

“Noted. Wish I had that Float spell sometimes.”

Bog chuckles as he slowly eases back, and, as he predicted, [dontworry] doesn’t move forward; lots of traps, then, though how [butterfly] had set them all up so quickly was interesting. Fairy Kingdom typically only used a trap here and there around their main base, but this was extensive and no doubt time-consuming. “Permanently lowers mana for the round and makes me more vulnerable to most elemental-based attacks, but it lasts the entire match.”

“Yeah, yeah, brag about it, why don’t you.” Steph appears at the back of his screen, slowly advancing as her character pauses and checks the surrounding area for traps.

“Hang on,” Thane says, and he appears behind Steph. “How was Sunrise not getting caught in any of these? Or DW?”

Bog pauses, though his fingers never cease moving as he neatly dodges around [dontworry]’s arrows. The traps began at the fifty marker, but he’d been able to push [sunrise] back past sixty and almost to seventy before she’d fallen, and that was because he’s whittled her health down to nothing. “Fairy Kingdom doesn’t have a mage, but the only way she could have avoided the traps is if she used Float. You’re right, that is odd.”

“They wouldn’t cheat, though,” Steph says, and she pushes past Bog’s character and further down the lane, Thane following close behind, and Bog casts a protective barrier around her and fires a bolt of lightning at [dontworry] when he tries to attack her. “You think Butterfly’s switched it up a bit?”

“She _is_ a faerie, even if she’s a faerie warrior,” Thane muses. “Isn’t the faerie class supposed to have magic in general? I think Sunrise has probably put all of her points into tank aspects, but maybe Butterfly picked out a few spells that might be useful.”

“Elves have magic too,” Bog points out, and sighs in relief when [dontworry] finally falls, allowing him and his team to move forward. “Maybe he’s responsible for it? His stealth level isn’t high enough like Butterfly’s to sneak around in the forest, and his arrows hit hard.”

“And I thought you couldn’t cast Float on other people,” Steph muses.

“I can’t,” Bog says, “Or at least I thought I couldn’t.” He goes to check the spell’s description, even as the audience calls out that he is correct. “Yeah, you can’t.”

“Did they _all_ put in points for Float, then?” Thane says, flabbergasted. “It’s worth like seven points, isn’t it? They really do grind too much.”

“Maybe we can find them and ask after this,” Steph says, and then she looks up and winks at the crowd at large, “Or maybe our audience can do that for us and report back all of their weaknesses.” Laughter, and she and Bog are now closing in on Fairy Kingdom’s main base. “DW’s got twenty seconds before respawn, Sunrise twenty as well – and there she is. Boss?”

“I’ll keep her busy,” Bog says. “Any sign of Butterfly?”

“None. The base is still secure as far as I can tell, and I haven’t been suddenly attacked from the forest.” Thane joins them shortly thereafter, slamming his ax into [sunrise]’s side. “What is their _deal_?”

Their deal, as it turns out, is waiting for all three to begin hacking away at the exorbitant amount of defenses on Fairy Kingdom’s main base – and then [butterfly] finally makes her appearance by popping from the nearby forest and neatly backstabbing Bog’s character. He dies instantly, and his groan is shortly thereafter echoed by Thane and Steph’s; [butterfly] had gotten them as well.

“And I bet they’ve reset all the traps,” Steph grumbles. By the time Bog respawns, he advances to see that this is true – that in fact both [dontworry] and [sunrise] are busily fluttering around, setting them up closer and closer to Dark Forest’s base.

“We’re going to have to defend for a while,” Bog says with a sigh. He already knows that even if they managed to fend Fairy Kingdom off, the traps will require much more time to disarm and eventually travel through. “Brilliant.”

“Boss, you should go on ahead, see if you can take out their base,” Thane says. “Me ‘n Steph can cover it from here.”

“Steph and I,” Steph corrects, before adding, “And he’s right.”

“I’ll try,” Bog says doubtfully, and he checks to make sure Float is still in effect before proceeding. Both [dontworry] and [sunrise] outright ignore him as he goes past them, and by now he’s convinced the two have used Float as well to keep them from activating the traps. “No doubt Butterfly is waiting for me.”

* * *

“I can’t believe this is working,” Marianne says with a cackle, busily piling on more and more defenses onto their base. “This is why we never use traps. Sunny, you’re a genius.”

“That has been known to occur on occasion,” Sunny agrees, leaning forward on the loveseat. Dawn sits on his other side, absorbed in her own laptop, while Marianne sits across from them in an armchair. “Also see exhibit 2, i.e. this break room that I found. Do I get pizza now?”

“You’re the best, Sunny-wunny,” Dawn tells him earnestly - perhaps a consolation prize, with that a bright smile on her face. Marianne snickers when Sunny flushes, ignoring the glare he sends her way.

“Defenses are at seventy now,” she says instead of commenting. “I wonder how high they can go?”

“Are you going to backstab BK again when he shows up?”

“He’ll have cast a spell that prevents that,” she answers him, shaking her head. “Or at least one that stops it from doing triple damage. You guys just need to get Stuff and Thang down so you can destroy the main base while I keep him distracted.”

“With chat?” Dawn asks, grinning as she briefly looks up from her screen.

“I was thinking of more traditional methods,” Marianne says, “you know, the whole fighting thing that is very tried and true,” but then the gears click and begin to churn in her head, and she says more slowly, “but that would work, wouldn’t it. Quick, what’s something insulting that’s rated G so that his audience can see?”

* * *

[butterfly]: Remind me why you think you’re so great again?

Bog’s eyes flick to the chatbox the as it pops up on his screen. She hadn’t whispered it this time, meaning Steph and Thane could see it too, meaning the audience could see it, meaning... well, he has to respond with some kind of clever barb eventually. Show business and all that.

“They’re really confident this time around,” Steph notes, fingers never ceasing on her keyboard. “Whatcha gonna say to that, boss?”

“I’m a little busy at the moment,” Bog answers, guiding his mage forward. He’s at the seventy marker. “I’d rather just ignore her.”

Someone in the audience yells out, “Tell her she’s a b – ”

“Nope,” Thane says, smoothly interrupting, and the person doesn’t yell again, likely because the scowl on Bog’s face is very intimidating. That doesn’t deter others, however.

“Tell her she’s cocky for someone who’s about to lose,” someone else suggests from the audience amid several other responses. _That one is fairly innocuous, at least._

[BK]: You’re quite cocky for someone who is about to lose.  
[butterfly]: Big words from someone so delusional they think they can win.

Multiple people in the audience _ooh_ at him, their voices accompanied by laughter. “ _Burn_ ,” Steph says, grinning.

“This is going to go on for a while,” Bog replies, sighing good-naturedly, and of course the people sprawled out before him laugh at his pain even as several others begin to shout out comebacks. “Eh. I’ll take suggestions from the audience for possible answers.”

* * *

The back-and-forth goes on for a few minutes before [thang] starts to respond in [BK]’s stead, and in that time BK has advanced to Fairy Kingdom’s ten marker and is currently attacking Marianne directly. She’s not worried; Sunny and Dawn already destroyed [thang] and [stuff] and are attacking the base itself. She’s not sure why [BK] hasn’t gone back yet.

“I smell a trick,” Sunny says. “Thang and Stuff have respawned, but they just blew past us and went right to the traps.”

“They gotta get all the way from thirty to seventy,” Dawn crows, a wide smile on her round face. “We’ll’ve gotten their base down by then.”

“How much defense does it have?”

“They capped it at eighty,” Sunny says. “Kind of ridiculous, except ours is in the hundreds, so maybe not.”

“So far it’s whittled it down to forty,” Dawn supplies. “What’s BK doing?”

“Attacking me, and failing miserably. Thank god for magic resistance upgrades, even if I had to grind for hours just to get them. _Fuck_ ,” she swears, loudly and vehemently, when Bog instead uses his staff to hit her character head-on instead. “What the hell, his physical attack just drained at least a quarter of my health! I call bullshit.”

“Just go backstab him already,” Sunny says, nonplussed.

“Yeah, why don’t I just do that when he can see where I’m going and I don’t have anyone to distract him?”

“This was _your_ idea,” Dawn reminds her.

“No, it was Sunny’s, and I supported it. Sunny, you’re a moron.”

“You remember that genius comment from a while back? She just rescinded it.” Sunny briefly lifts his hands from his keyboard to throw them into the air. “Inquiring minds want to know, do I still get my pizza?”

“Now is not the time,” Dawn says, nudging him with her shoulder, and he lets out an audible grumble as his fingers resettle onto the controls.

* * *

“I have to admit, boss, I’m impressed Butterfly can keep up a conversation while kicking your butt.”

“She is not kicking my butt, Steph,” Bog says without missing a beat, though he is lying through his teeth. He’d thought he’d done a lot of grinding this past week; [butterfly], of course, had to prove him wrong and get not one, not two, but five upgrades to her already ridiculous rapier. Even a glancing blow from the thing knocked out a fair bit of his health, and he kept having to refresh his shields and mana.

“She is _so_ kicking your butt,” Steph says, for while the crowd cannot see Bog’s screen, she can see a small window of it thanks to Skype.

“She is not.”

[butterfly]: Stop using your shields and face me like a true warrior, cockroach!  
[thang]: im pretty sure that would be unfair  
[butterfly]: And stop getting your minion to respond for you!  
[thang]: sorry  
[butterfly]: It’s not your fault, minion. I blame your boss.  
[sunrise]: yeah!! you slave driver D:  
[butterfly]: What do you say to that, bug?  
[thang]: he says that he isnt losing  
[butterfly]: Lies and slander!

Bog swings his staff around and bonks [butterfly]’s character with it, and like last time, it takes a sizeable chunk of health. “She must have upped her magic resistance,” Bog realizes belatedly. Someone in the audience yells that that was what they had been trying to tell him for a while, but Bog ignores them as he muses, “That’s why physical attacks hurt her so much.”

Naturally, [butterfly] immediately retaliates by circling around him and completing a short, neat backstab in his single moment of distraction – something she had been attempting to do for the past two minutes, and of course he’d forgotten to refresh the spell that would decrease the damage from it. His shields drop instantly and she lands a few hits before he can get them up again, and he is now coasting on less than a quarter health.

[butterfly] _whispered_ : En garde!

Bog rolls his eyes, dancing around [butterfly]’s faery and attempting to cast a spell on Fairy Kingdom’s main base. It hits but appears to do absolutely nothing – just how high are their defenses? – and then [butterfly] is on him again, merciless. “Are the two of you far enough away?”

“We’re at the thirty marker. It’s taking a while for Steph to dismantle the traps,” Thane replies. “Do you think that’s good enough?”

“The range is twenty,” Steph says. “I just wanted to be safe. Shall we?”

“Do it,” Bog says, and a smile creeps at the corner of his lips. The audience waits with anticipatory, excited chatter.

[butterfly] _whispered_ : I expected better from you. You’re really going to disappoint your fans like this?

Said fans, thankfully, cannot see Bog’s screen, else they would have burst into catcalls and missed the explosion occurring on the edge of Steph’s screen.

* * *

“What the _shit_ ‽”

“What?” Marianne asks, immediately on edge at Sunny’s tone.

“He blew us up!” Dawn cries as Sunny resumes gaping at his evidently now-black screen. “He blew us up with a bomb!”

“They have _bombs_ in this game?”

“Shouldn’t you be more focused on other things? Like not dying?” Sunny asks, frantically mashing some buttons before giving up and flopping back into the loveseat.

“Why don’t _we_ have bombs?” Marianne says instead, pulling a face, more than a little envious.

“Does it matter?” Sunny shoots back.

“Where do we get them?” Marianne demands, deliberately ignoring him.

“I think you can only buy them at certain locations,” her sister says, disappointed but not sullen, and she tilts her head and rests her chin on her hand. “Or something like that. Maybe there’s a DLC or update we didn’t know about? I’ll look it up, since, you know, it says we have a full minute until we respawn.”

“Traps and bombs next time,” Marianne says, nodding when Dawn hums agreement and Sunny lets out a short mumble, still rankled. She parries a blow from [BK] and then neatly dodges a fireball. “Where’re the other two hooligans?”

“Marker forty,” Sunny answers grumpily. “Stuff is dismantling the traps. Slowly but surely. Thane is back at their base, I think.”

“You think they have another bomb?”

“Maybe,” Dawn says, absently running a hand through her hair. It spikes up exactly the same way it’d been in before. “But it probably doesn’t hurt the base itself. I mean, they exploded it while we were right in front of it.”

“And it took time for it to arm itself, or they were just getting out of range,” Sunny puts in. He still looks disgruntled, but Marianne knows it’s more because he’s frustrated with himself and not because he’s annoyed at her.

“Okay,” Marianne says, and her mind flits from one scenario to the next. “Let’s get you guys respawned, and we’ll figure something out.”

[butterfly] _whispered_ : Low blow, bug.  
[BK] _whispered_ : What, and the million and one traps isn’t?  
[butterfly] _whispered_ : I don’t need your logic right now.

* * *

“Defenses at fifteen,” Thane reports into the terse silence, wherein Bog is duking it out with [butterfly] and Steph is slowly advancing, taking as many traps out as she can. “I’ll bring it up as high as possible.”

“Good man,” Steph says, a grin in her voice.

“It’s not looking great,” Thane warns. “They took out almost all of the base’s health, and that bomb made a dent in our resources. We’re not regenerating that lost HP anytime soon.”

“Not much else we can do except keep beating them up,” Steph says. “At least Butterfly’s stopped talking, right?”

Bog opens his mouth to denounce this, but shuts it a moment later when [butterfly] neatly twirls around his blade and goes for a strong, heavy special at his flank. When he turns to parry it, however, she uses the oldest trick in the book and dodges around him, allowing her to backstab him _again_.

“Hm,” he says instead as his character dies, and Thane groans out loud, prolonged and slow, as the update appears in the corner of his screen.

“Maybe we should use another bomb,” Steph says.

* * *

“They’re using another bomb,” Marianne says, watching as [stuff] further down remains motionless, a progress bar showing that she is a quarter way through arming the explosive.

Dawn and Sunny have finally respawned only to find Marianne moving down the lane, heedless of danger. “I could dismantle it, if I got close enough,” Sunny says resignedly, and Marianne sees them at the corner of her screen, pursuing her.

“Do it,” Marianne says. “Dawn?”

“Yes?”

“Do me a favor and tackle Stuff, would you?”

Dawn doesn’t respond, but a moment later Marianne watches the tank barrel [stuff] over with enough momentum to nick the approaching [thang] as she goes. Sunny immediately descends on the bomb as Marianne continues forward, dodging around [thang]’s swing and pelting forward towards the base.

“Defenses at twenty-five,” Marianne says, hacking away as soon as she gets close. “How long until BK respawns?”

“Pretty soon,” Sunny says. “I don’t have a definite count, wasn’t keeping track.”

Dawn says, “Stuff’s out, moving on to Thang next.”

“Dawn, get the base. I’ll deal with Thang.”

Her sister whoops as she and Marianne fluidly switch positions, and one charge from the tank is enough to crumble the base’s defenses. [thang] can’t quite keep up with Marianne’s movements, but his HP is too high for Marianne to take him out right away, at least without using backstab; but that’s fine, she’s just keeping him away from Sunny and Dawn, and a moment later, [BK] respawns, Dawn charges again, and Sunny yelps in alarm, “I messed it up!”

“Messed _what_ up?”

“The disarming! Crap, get as far away as you can!”

Marianne opens her mouth to demand answers – and then the game goes black.

A moment later, TIE flashes decisively across the computer's screen.

* * *

Bog says, “Steph.”

“Yeah, boss?”

“Did that bomb kill everyone in the entire field?”

“Yeah, boss.”

“Steph.”

“Yeah, boss?”

“Don’t do that again.”

“You got it, boss.”

Thane – and most everyone else in the audience – snickers, and Bog sighs. Looks like he would not be winning in front of a live audience after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: we (maybe) learn why Marianne calls the guild Fairy Kingdom even though her chosen race is 'faerie'.
> 
> Come visit me on [tumblr](http://snowsheba.tumblr.com/)! Or, you know, don't. That's cool too. I try to respond to comments so you can get in touch with me that way, too!


	3. fight club

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s been almost two hours since her panel, and she’s just considering returning to the hotel for a well-deserved nap when she bumps into someone and they say, “Marianne!” all happy-like as if they had been looking for her for a while. She thinks it’s just another fan until she looks up at his face – 
> 
> and then her thoughts shut down and all she can think is _fuck_ , the word repeating itself on a never-ending loop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a little rough around the edges - my apologies. I don't have a beta-reader and I honestly just wanted to get this up and out, just because it's been kinda hard getting things rolling with this fic, motivation-wise. 
> 
> But, at the same time, I've been a little overwhelmed by how much support this has gotten even, though I update infrequently and I personally think I could write this so much better - thank you so much. Your kind words definitely cheered me on!

The panel’s all right, Marianne supposes. Mostly they get asked a plethora of inane questions, which Marianne answers alongside Dawn and Sunny – what’s your favorite video game? _Borderlands 2._ Why is your guild called ‘Fairy’ Kingdom if the spelling is ‘faerie’? _To trip people up, and to rail on them when they call us ‘fairies’ instead of ‘faeries’ in chat_. Do have a favorite Let’s Player or livestreamer? _No, but if Dark Forest streamed, I’d probably watch them just so I could see them fail._ Do you have a pet? _We did. He was a white cat who liked to knock things over. His name was Imp_.

They even end up singing at the end, to which they had received wild applause and, when they had cleared out to make way for the next panel, they had gotten swarmed with even more people. She had been asked for her _autograph_. She would find it hilarious if it wasn’t so surreal.

Now she’s just walking around aimlessly, occasionally fielding a question or five from a fan (and she runs into them surprisingly often – are they following her around?) or taking a minute to catch her breath and people-watch. There’re lots of interesting characters around the place, both in appearance and in mannerisms, and more than once she stops to peek in on some live matchups from the _really_ famous streamers. She lost Sunny and Dawn some time ago, so there’s no one to make fun of her as she mills about and watches two people go at each other in Starcraft II.

(She thinks she would’ve liked the game if she had gotten into it instead of Strange Magic.)

It’s been almost two hours since her panel and she’s just considering returning to the hotel for a well-deserved nap when her shoulder bumps into someone and they say, “Marianne!” all happy-like as if they had been looking for her for a while when she mutters an apology. She thinks it’s just another fan until she looks up at his face –

and then her thoughts shut down and all she can think is _fuck_ , the word repeating itself on a never-ending loop. In the meantime she turns and runs as people begin to murmur and both spread out and close in at the same time.

She makes it about five feet before Roland calls out, “Marianne, baby, come back!” and there is suddenly a wall of flesh in front of her – god, this is one reason why she hates crowds – and, no matter how hard she shoves and elbows her way through, she never quite makes it far enough to flee far, far away.

“Shit,” she voices aloud upon this revelation. Roland’s voice continues to follow, and with one last deep breath, she turns around and marches forward – and of course it’s easier going this way through the sea of people, _dammit –_ because in retrospect running from him generally didn’t work out and _oh god she can’t handle this_ , her knees are wobbling and she fists her hands at her side as he appears in front of her, smiling toothily, eyes crinkled at the edges.

“What do you want, Roland?”

He opens his mouth and blood roars in her ears; she misses what he says entirely until the very end, where the words “misunderstanding” and “overreacting” and “promise” come out, and then she pulls back her lip in a snarl, lifts her hand.

There is no satisfying sound of her fist hitting his face; instead, she finds herself stopped when something gently but firmly grabs her wrist.

“I’m pretty sure this ain’t the place for a fistfight, tough girl,” someone says behind her, and when she neatly pivots to attempt to slam her leg into their side, the person merely sidesteps.

She flails her captive arm wildly as she hisses, “Stay out of this, dipshit.”

Said dipshit is about two feet taller than her (well, no, maybe a foot. And a half. Uh) and, at best, she hardly reaches his shoulder. Any attempts to knee him in the crotch will result in hitting his thigh and twisting her arm so much it would hurt, so. That’s out.

She snarls at him, wordless, other hand assailing him wherever she can reach; the intent is clear. He merely tilts his head at her and then says to Roland, “Perhaps you should clear out, eh?”

“Release her this instant,” Roland snaps with a bravado so sincere it has to be false.

“Fuck you!” Marianne shouts at him, which she knows is weird because she doesn’t want to be held back like this, but if this pinecone of a man listened to _Roland_ that’d be even worse, and –

“Not to insult your intelligence, man, but I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Oh, damn, that isn’t a terrible burn, and Marianne just _knows_ it will fly over Roland’s head.

It does. “She’s my fiancée! She wouldn’t hurt me!” Roland accents this by smiling at her like they’re sharing a moment in a private joke, and she wants to puke.

Instead of that, though, she seethes, “I am _not_ , you lying, cheating scum, and I will. _Gladly_.”

“Right, well, good chat,” Pinecone says as if they’d been discussing the weather, and he turns and pulls Marianne along with him, fingers still tight around her wrist. People part before him, probably because he’s so tall. “Maybe I’ll see you around – c’mon, tough girl.”

“Let go of me!” Marianne answers, and even a sharp tug, hard enough that her shoulder pops, isn’t enough to deter him. “I don’t even know you!”

“Yeah? Better than getting kicked out of the Con by getting in a fight,” Pinecone shoots back. “And you really want to go back to _that_?”

As he says this, Marianne can hear Roland plaintively calling her name, interspersed with ‘babe’ and ‘sweetheart’ and ‘honey’. The nausea returns and she would’ve stumbled and fallen if not for Pinecone’s hold, and she has to grudgingly admit that she would not have gotten this far away without the stranger’s height in this crowd.

“Fine, I get it,” Marianne grumbles. “Let go of my wrist, at least.”

“Not going to run off to punch his daylights out?”

“Ugh. I’m not stupid, just angry.” _And a little sick to the stomach_. Pinecone lets her wrist go, though, and she absently rubs it with her opposite hand. “Also, he’d totally deserve it.”

“Yeah?” Marianne doesn’t respond to the obvious unspoken question, and she doesn’t look up when Pinecone says, “You okay? You’re a wee bit pale.”

She swallows, quietly, and lies through her teeth, “I’m fine,” and then she looks up at him and _oh_.

* * *

From: **Steph**  
_Thane and I are gonna stay late. We found some kids who want to start playing SM so we’re showing them the ropes.  
_ (21:14)

To: **Steph**  
_Sounds good. I’ll be out late as well. Meet you at the hotel at ten-thirty?  
_ (21:24)

From: **Steph**  
_You got it, boss._  
(21:25)

From: **Thane**  
_whatcha stayin out late for?  
_ (21:25)

To: **Thane**  
_I’ll tell you later.  
_ (21:28)

From: **Steph**  
_You met someone, didn’t you.  
_ (21:29)

To: **Steph**  
_Don’t get any ideas.  
_ (21:29)

From: **Thane**  
_oh my gosh!! is she awesome  
_ (21:30)

From: **Steph**  
_What else do you expect us to do?  
_ (21:30)

To: **Steph ** & **Thane**  
_Stop.  
_ (21:30)

* * *

Her eyes are the color of caramel swirled with chocolate, and even now, as she huddles into herself and fingers the sleeve of her T-shirt as she crosses her arms, they glint with defiance and strength.

(He feels like he knows her from somewhere, like she’s said hello to him on the street.)

“Wow,” she says presently, and the spell is broken; “Your eyes are blue. Like, _super_ blue.”

He lifts an eyebrow at her. “Any other profound observations you want to share, Captain Obvious?”

“You’re tall,” she answers primly, a hint of a smirk pulling at her lip, and he can’t stop the chuckle that leaves his throat. “And your accent is weird.”

“Ouch.”

“Hey, I didn’t say it was _bad_.”

“Thanks,” he says dryly, oddly flattered, and he’s probably looking into it a bit too much so he focuses on her face instead. She’s still pale, but there’s some color returning to her cheeks; he asks, “You want to sit down?”

“A little bit, yeah.” She gnaws at her lip as she says, “I’m Marianne, by the way.”

“Bog.”

She wrinkles her nose as they shake hands, and it’s actually kind of adorable. “Your name is Bog?”

“Nickname.” He tempers her curious look by continuing to walk and adding, “It’s a long story.”

Finding a place to sit is no easy task. The trek is spent mostly in silence, well, as silent as a convention full of people can be, but they do not converse as Bog navigates and Marianne follows, tagging along closely so she doesn’t get left behind. When they do finally find a bench, it’s in a very quiet corner and Marianne looks slightly green as she plops down, hands tight around her middle.

She mutters something under her breath, too quiet for Bog to catch from where he’s standing, and he says cautiously, “Need anything else?”

“A way to kill someone without getting caught,” she says, and Bog’s chuckles die a slow death when her face remains grim.

“You’re serious,” he says, half incredulous, half very, very curious.

“S’long story,” she says, snidely but without the venom and yep, he saw that coming.

“I was thinking you’d want something more like a barf bag,” he counters.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Marianne says, and then she swallows hard, grimacing, and says, “Actually, take that back; maybe. God. _Roland_. Ugh.” Shuddery sigh. “It’s not fair that even after everything went down, he still makes me feel this way.”

"Is that his name?” She nods, and he observes, “He sounded like a piece of work.”

“He’s a piece of something, all right,” Marianne answers, before snarling vehemently, “A piece of _shit_.”

“You really want to spill your life history to a complete stranger?”

“You made sure I didn’t get myself kicked out of this thing,” she says, making a vague gesture at the surrounding area, “I’m going to count you as not a complete stranger. Also I know your name.” She seems to contemplate this for a moment before adding, “Well, your first name, at any rate. Or at least a nickname. Huh.”

“Am I supposed to say ‘you’re welcome’?”

“No, you ass, you’re supposed to tell me about yourself. We’re _friends_ , remember?”

He sits down heavily next to her – not too close, not too far. If they’re going to keep talking he might as well make himself comfortable, even if the bench is a little short and his knees kind of stick up. “I might get whiplash from how fast this relationship is progressing, tough girl.”

“Roll with it or die, pinecone. It’s not like I have anyone else to talk to; both of my friends are long gone, wherever they are.”

“How flattering,” he says dryly, but settles back anyway, until he sits up again and asks, “Pinecone?”

She waves a hand. “Tall, spiky limbs. Pinecone.”

“ _Spiky_ limbs?”

“Those elbows are lethal. They’re at face-level, at least for me, and pointy as hell.” He mumbles an apology as she gives him a look sidelong, and once again he’s struck with the amber of her eyes, how her makeup frames them perfectly, how that tiny quirk of her lip and the way she talks seems so intimately familiar. “Anyway, I’m Marianne Fairweather. I’m here because I like to play video games. I have a sister named Dawn, and I cannot tolerate handsome blonds who think the world will bow at their feet.”

 _Fairweather_. A juxtaposition if there ever was one. “Bog King.” He’s about to say he came to host a panel but decides against it; Marianne had been vague, he might as well be too. “I’m here on account that I heard a livestreamer I know would have a panel.” Close enough. “Came with a few friends, but I’m not sure where they are now.”

“Who’d you come for?”

 _Uh._ “She plays Strange Magic.” Yeah, why not? He’d missed [butterfly]’s panel, and he still prefers not having a face to put to the name. “They went up against another team live today. It was pretty cool.”

Marianne doesn’t respond right away, and it’s only when Bog looks at her that she appears to blink and get a hold of herself. “I play a little Strange Magic,” she says, though it comes out more like a confession than a statement of fact. “I’m not great at it, though.”

“Me neither,” he says, and it’s a damn good thing no one’s around because he would never live _that_ down if someone who knew of him heard him say it. “It’s the only MMO I play, actually. Otherwise I just stick with more traditional RPGs.”

“Any first-person shooters?”

“I’ve played Destiny, GTA, some COD, some Borderlands. You?”

“Oh my god, I _love_ Borderlands. Do you have it on Steam? What’s your username?”

* * *

From: **Dawn**  
_Mari where are you? ive been trying to call for hours!!  
_ (21:41)

To: **Dawn**  
_Sorry, got sidetracked. I’m on my way back to the hotel.  
_ (21:45)

From: **Dawn**  
_sidetracked?  
_ (21:45)

To: **Dawn**  
_Met someone.  
_ (21:48)

From: **Dawn**  
_OH MY GOD  
_ (21:48)

To: **Dawn**  
_It’s really not what you think, Dawn. Like, absolutely_ not _ what you think._  
(21:49)

From: **Dawn**  
_is he hot?? tell me what he looks like SEND ME PICTURES  
_ (22:49)

To: **Dawn**  
_No.  
_ (22:50)

From: **Dawn**  
_he is so totally hot isnt he  
_ (22:50)

To: **Dawn**  
_No!!  
_ (22:50)

From: **Dawn**  
_WHATS HIS NAME  
_ (22:50)

To: **Dawn**  
_I am definitely not telling you that.  
_ (22:51)

From: **Dawn**  
_MARI YOU CANT JUST LEAVE ME HANGING LIKE THIS  
_ (22:51)

To: **Dawn**  
_Watch me.  
_ (22:51)

From: **Sunny**  
_whatever you’re talking about with dawn made her start texting me nonstop for the past five minutes, please resolve this quickly so I can sleep.  
_ (21:56)

* * *

As it turns out, the reason Bog’s nickname is Bog is because his real name is five syllables long and is also unpronounceable. Marianne knows: she tries at least fifteen different inflections, and every single time Bog repeats his name and she just can’t replicate it. It’s hilarious in an embarrassing sort of way.

“Fine. Bog,” she says, sipping at her coffee, “I think I’ll just stick with that.”

“That’s what I’ve been telling you.”

“It wasn’t a long story, though.”

He shrugs at her. Or, rather, at the space above her head.

They’ve since relocated to outside the convention center – there’s a local coffee shop nearby that, as Marianne has discovered, serves excellent coffee – and are walking its perimeter with no set destination in mind. It’s late, around 9 P.M., and Marianne knows she should maybe be worried about walking around in the dark with a male beanpole she’s just met, but at the same time, _fuck it_. Bog is funny and weird and he’s almost elbowed her in the face three times only to apologize profusely afterwards. He’s okay. He has to be, if he managed to cheer her up after seeing a certain pissface again.

“Pinecone,” she declares, elbows fresh in her mind.

“Eh?”

“That’s you. Pinecone.”

“I thought you just decided my name is Bog?”

“You’re basically a really tall stick with pointy things.” She drinks a bit more of her coffee and says thoughtfully, “Maybe you’re a cactus.”

“Ah, yeah, because that’s so much better,” Bog grumbles, but there’s no venom behind it.

“Roll with it or die, cactus.”

Marianne’s hotel is not a far walk from here, and the sidewalks are overflowing with people coming and going from Twitch Con. The two of them stick out like a sore thumb – a small young woman with dark makeup, short hair and a shirt that reads _COME AT ME, BRO_ with a tall dark-haired man with piercing blue eyes and a demeanor that suggests he could snap someone in half at the mere suggestion of kilts – but, even so, they blend in easily with the crowd.

“Are you coming here again tomorrow?” she asks without thinking.

“Wasn’t plannin’ on it. No one else I really want to see.”

 _Damn_. She’d been hoping she could have Dawn meet him, so her sister would understand how it really wasn’t anything at all (and so if she saw Roland, he could stop her from _don’t think about Roland don’t think about Roland_ ).

“Why?”

Her turn to shrug. She’s cold and is rather envious of his bland gray sweater. “Just curious.”

It’s a gentle quip when he says, “Bored with your friends’ company?”

One corner of her lips curls up. “In a way. They should be dating but haven’t gotten to the confessing part yet. It’s sickening.”

“Really.”

“Okay, fine, it’s adorable. Sickeningly sweet, though. Tooth-rotting.” She flaps a hand. “Love is overrated, but if it makes them happy, good for them. Since it’s never worked out for me, I’m fine just sitting back.”

“Seems we have similar ideas on the topic, tough girl.”

She snorts and looks him up and down. “Yeah, I can see that.”

He sounds offended, but there’s a hint of a smirk on his face. “And what’s _that_ supposed to mean?”

“Nothing.” This time he does elbow her, neatly avoiding her face to check her shoulder instead. “Ow! I didn’t say anything.”

“But there were lots of implications. Do enlighten me.”

“Never.” He goes to elbow her again, but she grabs the offending limb and redirects it so it swishes through empty air. “Violence is not the answer, cactus!”

“It’s the solution.” He lifts his arm up and her grip slips from it, though she manages to drag his sweater sleeve down a bit. It’s hard to see in the dark, but she is fairly certain she can see tattoos before he draws it up again. “Look at those wee arms. Can’t do anything to stop me, can you?” She kicks him in the leg, mock-scowling, and his laugh is kind of raspy and grinding, but it suits him. “Now go on, I believe you were saying something.”

“About how horrible love is? Bog, my friend, I could go on for _hours_.”

“Interesting. So could I.”

“Oh, really? Do tell.”

“You first.”

“Ha! My dad told me not to go anywhere with strangers.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Shit. I meant – my dad told me not to tell anything to strangers.”

“Right.”

“Cactus! You’re not helping.”

He laughs. “You don’t have to tell me, lass. It’s not like I have any right to pry.”

“Damn right.” What are they talking about again? Ah, right, how love is terrible, a favorite subject of hers. “Although you already met him.”

“Ah.” He doesn’t need to say the name.

* * *

From: **Steph**  
_So it_ is _a she, right?_  
(21:58)

From: **Thane**  
_how tall are they?  
_ (21:58)

To: **Steph** & **Thane**  
_Are you two coordinating your texts?  
_ (21:59)

From: **Steph**  
_Don’t be ridiculous, boss.  
_ (21:59)

From: **Thane**  
_yep!_  
(21:59)

To: **Steph** & **Thane**  
_Wow._  
(22:00)

From: **Steph**  
_Ha, sorry. You still haven’t answered the questions.  
_ (22:00)

To: **Steph** & **Thane**  
_It’s a she, and she’s probably 5 foot. Maybe taller.  
_ (22:01)

From: **Thane**  
_oh my gosh thats adorable  
_ (22:01)

From: **Steph**  
_Pics or it didn’t happen.  
_ (22:01)

To: **Steph** & **Thane**  
_No._  
(22:02)

From: **Thane**  
_cmon please??  
_ (22:02)

To: **Steph** & **Thane**  
_NO_.  
(22:03)

* * *

It’s only 10:15 when Bog eases his way back into the comfort of the Days Inn. Steph and Thane’s room, connected to his by a door within the two rooms, is empty; small blessings, he supposes, as he lifts the strap of his bag off of his shoulder and pulls out his laptop, walking towards the sad-looking desk. When he gets the computer charging and powers it up, Skype is already flashing; Marianne had made good on her promise, and he snorts on a laugh when her contact message is “Be my friend or die, pinecone.” Well, at least he knows it’s her, and he clicks _accept_.

She’s not online. Which is probably a good thing, considering the time, and he goes to check Steam and yep, she’s also sent him a friend request. He accepts that as well – she’d been online just a few minutes earlier, though, so he only just missed her. A shame, really - he hasn’t touched _Borderlands_ in quite some time, and even though his laptop might have some issues keeping up with the Days Inn's Internet, it would have been interesting to see her character choice.

(He was guessing the hunter, Mordecai. Either him or Brick.)

For the moment, he turns his laptop off and braces himself for the inevitable questions from his teammates, once they return. He really should’ve just kept his mouth shut, not told them anything – but they would’ve figured something was up, likely, given he’s not dressed for bed or straight up sleeping. He could pretend to be asleep in ten minutes, right?

He’s just washing out his mouth, toothbrush returning to its spot next to the sink’s basin, when the door to the nearby room over opens and closes, followed by rapid pitter-patter footsteps – and then Steph and Thane are in his room, Thane seated crosslegged on his bed, watching him intently with his elbows on his knees while Steph leans against the doorframe, arms crossed.

“So,” Steph says, and she’s clearly trying not to snicker.

“Can we debrief tomorrow?” Bog says as he emerges from the bathroom, toweling his face dry, refusing to admit to himself that he’s whining.

“Pictures,” Thane says, grinning, eyebrows waggling.

“I didn’t take a picture of her. That would be creepy.”

“Tell us about her, then,” Steph says.

“No.”

“Can we meet her tomorrow?” Thane asks.

“You two are enjoying this far too much,” Bog grumbles, casting a forlorn glance back at the bathroom. Looks like he wouldn’t be getting a shower tonight.

“I think we need a new line of inquiry, Thane.”

Thane nods and, without missing a heartbeat, says, “Does she game?”

Bog lets out a long exhale through his nose. He needs to give them just enough to make them leave him alone, and so he relents. “Yes.”

“What games?” Steph presses.

“Uh. Borderlands? Some League, some Starcraft, Elder Scrolls. She likes Undertale. And apparently Strange Magic, but she says she isn’t good at it.”

“Have you played her?”

“No.”

“Did you add her on Steam?”

Does he really want to – no, Thane has that look on his face that says he’ll hack into Bog’s account to see for himself. It comes out grudgingly but comes out nonetheless: “Yes.”

“Good,” Steph says, seemingly satisfied. Bog tries not to deflate in relief.

Thane, however, is still not quite finished. “Is she cool?”

“Sure,” Bog says, and it comes out a bit more sincere than he had meant it to. Steph raises an eyebrow but thankfully doesn’t comment, and it appears to fly over Thane’s head entirely.

“What does she like to do?”

“I don’t know. She’s given me at least three nicknames, though.” Possibly five.

“Will we get to meet her?”

“Depends. When’s our flight tomorrow, three-thirty?” Steph nods, and Bog shrugs. “Probably, if we get there early enough and we coordinate.”

“Did you get her phone number?”

“No!”

“You should’ve asked,” Steph says, smirking outright now, and Bog resists the urge to bury his head in his hands.

* * *

Marianne gives herself ten seconds outside the hotel door to collect her thoughts. Going in and attempting to combat Dawn without a battle plan would be exceptionally stupid, and it’s not Marianne’s first time at the rodeo.

After a few deep breaths, she slips her cardkey into the slot, braced for impact as she turns and closes the door behind her. There is absolutely no noise behind her, which is far more foreboding than it is promising, and she holds her breath as she pivots on her heel.

Dawn is sitting on the bed, blue eyes trained directly on her, and Marianne releases a long, drawn-out sigh before saying wearily, “Hi, sis.”

Dawn makes a flapping motion with her hand at the opposite bed. Marianne stares at her, completely exasperated, causing Dawn to frown at her and says, “Sit.”

Marianne kicks off her shoes and sits exactly where she is, and Dawn rolls her eyes. “On the _bed_ , Mari.”

“I dunno, I’m kind of comfortable here.” Marianne gives her Converse a gentle pat. “My shoes will keep me company.”

Dawn makes a disgusted noise before standing up, stomping over, and grabbing one of Marianne’s arms, dragging her to the waiting comforters. Marianne doesn’t resist beyond flopping completely limp, but Dawn is deceptively strong as she near-about throws her sister onto the bed. She then sits back down on the other bed, leans forward on her knees, and demands, “What’s his name?”

“Cactus,” Marianne drawls.

“Mari.”

“Pinecone.”

“ _Mari_.”

“Bog,” Marianne relents. Dawn is about to yell again and she interjects, “No, it’s actually Bog. Cross my heart.”

“I don’t believe you,” Dawn says with a huff, but she lets it go. “Is he cute?”

“Well, he’s human, so that’s a start.”

“This doesn’t have to be painful, Marianne.”

“His hair is black. And his eyes are blue.” Marianne shrugs languidly, a rather interesting motion given she was lying flat on the bed, limps splayed this way and that as her head hangs over the edge and she looks at Dawn upside down. “He’s really tall.”

“See,” Dawn says, lips curling in a smile, “Was that so bad?”

“I’m dying,” Marianne deadpans.

“You let him walk you home?”

“He insisted,” Marianne says. “Because he was worried I’d beat someone up without supervision.”

“Wow, it’s like he knows you.” Marianne flips Dawn the finger, who rolls her eyes again and ignores it. “Does he play games?”

“He friended me on Steam.” She didn’t mention that she had sent the request in the hotel lobby, right after Bog had went on his way to his own hovel.

“Cute,” Dawn coos. Marianne sighs irritably. “How’d you meet him?”

Marianne takes a few moments to collect herself; and then she says without fanfare, “He stopped me from beating up Roland.”

The atmosphere sobers immediately, levity dropping into silence, and Dawn’s face slowly, slowly becomes stonier and stonier as Marianne avoids her gaze.

“Roland’s _here_?” Dawn asks sharply. It doesn’t matter that Marianne doesn’t answer; her sister shoots to her fee, begins pacing around the beds. “How did he know we were - _ugh_ , Dad. Dammit!”

“Nothing happened, Dawn,” Marianne says, feeling infinitely tired as she curls up into a small ball. “He tried to talk to me, I tried to punch him, Bog stopped me. He doesn’t know we’re here.”

Dawn shakes her head; it’s clear that she doesn’t believe her for a second, and she practically slams herself to a seat on Marianne’s bed and tells her, “We’re not going to the Con tomorrow. You’re going to stay in this room, Sunny and I are going to get snacks, and we’re going to have a game-a-thon. Got it?”

Marianne nods slightly. Dawn stares down at her for a moment, blue eyes glittering with swirling anger and love and protectiveness, before she spreads her arms and Marianne unfolds from the bed to collapse into them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sorry. I promised you a Roland getting punched in the face, but I had to cut it out for writing purposes. Soon, my friends. Soon. (*clenches fist dramatically*)

**Author's Note:**

> One of my friends insisted that I watch Strange Magic – not because it was all that fantastic, but because it was hilarious. And also Scottish accents, ridiculous but nevertheless strong female leads, and pretty butterfly wings. I'm still not quite sure what to make of it.
> 
> Updates will be sporadic.


End file.
